Candy shop.
The smell of peanut butter and chocolate circulating around the room. Sweets and treats hanging from baskets and vases. I would press my nose against each of the glass display windows just to get a closer look, even if I knew it wouldn't help. The sweet old man always asked me if I wanted the big swirly lollipop, because it was sweet just like me, another cheesy line he said every time I walked in with my dad every sunday afternoon. There would be days though, when we didn't stop by because my dad said I wouldn't want to get a cavity or be a chocoholic. Of course at the time I was small and thought being a chocoholic was very severe. The feeling of not being able to go and walk in the store and feel like I'm in Willy Wonkas Factory wasn't sweet. But I realized that the real prize that I had was actually sitting right in front of me, my dad. Gummy bears are tasty and all, but they won't give you the same love that your father gives you. I'd take that over a candy bar any day.